


Break The Cycles

by Merfilly



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: F/F, Fade to Black, Inspiration, War Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-10
Updated: 2011-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-15 13:38:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/161331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chromia knows her leader best</p>
            </blockquote>





	Break The Cycles

Chromia saw it coming, just before their leader actually lost it. Raids had gone so poorly since the Ark had blasted off, and they had seen cell after cell of resistant Autobots just vanish. Now, watching the pale pink femme stalk away from Firestar rather than let her temper be unleashed, Chromia began to wonder if losing contact with the Ark had damaged all of the Autobots in some deep way.

Granted, her Spark had felt leaden, dimmed, as if something had happened to Ironhide. Elita One admitted to a similar feeling concerning Optimus, but neither of them would give up hope that it was no more than the long distances separating them. They'd seen bonded sets divided by deactivation; pairs rarely survived, though trines and higher could sometimes keep one another sane on the loss of a single partner.

"Firestar," Chromia said in a firm, soft voice. "You and Moonracer are to maintain comm silence, patrol the outer perimeter of our base, and stay hidden until further notice," she ordered, pushing up to go trail the vanishing leader.

"I didn't mean to..."

"You never do, Sparky, but it happens a lot." Chromia shrugged. "Tough times and all that pile of rust. Now go!"

The femmes divided out, one to duty ordered, and the other... to duty of conscience.

`~`~`~`~`

Elita One felt the strong hand of another wrap around her wrist, catching her hand from hitting the training dummy one more time. She whirled, anger causing her optics to flare almost violet in reaction, but she could not let it go. She had to remain logical, composed, and...

"Want to hit me?" Chromia asked. "I hit back."

It broke Elita's anger, made her honestly twitch a smile up in response. "How do you do that? You always know just how to make my cycle break from the rut it falls into."

Chromia laughed, voder a little harsh. "You think a sec-force femme and an old rustbolt like 'Hide get on without kicking each other in the knee bolts? We had to learn when and where to to break each other out of our moods." Elita's optics dimmed a little, and she looked away, but Chromia was waiting for it, and reached out, taking hold of Elita's chin. "Gone. Not deactivated!" she said fiercely. "And by Primus, you and I and the rest of the ones left behind on this floating hunk of rust need to get our programs twisted into regulation code soon, before that nebula-head of a gun takes this planet from us!"

Chromia saw her leader, her friend, actually open and then close her mouth in response to that harangue, trying to find words that could deny it.

"I don't know if I am strong enough. Perhaps Kup..."

Chromia gripped Elita One's shoulders hard enough to actively impinge sensors as potentially damaging. "It has to be you, and I think you know why. You knew it the moment you took advantage of our apparent demise and led us into hiding. _You_ are more effective as a legend, because _you and he_ were a matched unit."

Elita's faceplates pressed into a grim line. "I'm no Prime."

Chromia shrugged that away. "No, you're not. You know how to sneak, you know how to best use minimal force to accomplish the biggest effect, and you have a processor for survival that junkheap sometimes forgot," she told Elita in her brittle, blunt fashion.

"That's my Sparkmate!" Elita protested, but she did smile again. It was true; she led one way, and Optimus led a different way.

"Besides. Kup? Last I heard, he was dealing with a bunch of rookies." Chromia let go of the pink shoulders, but moved one hand up to Elita's cheek. "We'll do this. Because Primus guard the universe if Prime and Hide and the others get back to find us doing anything but kicking 'Con afts and deleting them from the registries!"

Elita One started laughing at that. Her mate had a good leash on his temper... unless something truly threatened one of the femmes or mechs he had grown very close to. The last good defeat Shockwave had been dealt had come from the Decepticon commander directly targeting Sideswipe... and being too close to Prime when it happened. Sunstreaker never even got close enough before the Decepticons were in full retreat from Prime handing the 'Con his own aft.

"So, still in the mood to hit something?" Chromia asked her.

Elita One shook her helm, cycling air. "No..."

"But?"

The senior femme of the resistance gave a significant look toward the berths beyond the small gym they had made. "I do still have all that pent-up energy to burn off safely..." she said, voice as even as her logic circuits could get it when her energy fields were beginning to reach out and tug playfully on Chromia's.

"When, in all the cycles we've known each other, has 'facing with _you_ been safe?" Chromia shot back, but she reached out and ran a hand along the sensor spikes of Elita One's helm, earning a purr of her ventilation systems.

"Promise not to dent you bad enough that 'Racer has to fix it," Elita offered.

"This time..."

`~`~`~`~`

Much later, Chromia listened to the ghostly transmissions as Elita One floated her voice over secure channels, delivering a speech to any Autobot who could hear her, pleasantly sated. Sometimes leaders needed more than they would ever admit. In this case, Chromia would keep giving Elita what she needed... and Elita would give Cybertron what it needed: hope and strength of will.


End file.
